


Hello Again

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Damian is a kid and falls asleep, and Dick realizes some things.Almost too fluffy to read.





	Hello Again

"Hey, Alfred!"

"Hush, Master Dick."

"Huh?" Dick stuck his head into the room, peering curiously at the elderly man. "What's the--oh."

Damian resided on the broken-in maroon couch, curled in toward the cushions. His fists were tucked near his chest, which was rising up and down in a peaceful slumber.

Dick crept closer, gently stroking the black hair away from his tanned face. "Little guy got tuckered out, huh?"

Alfred's mustache twitched. He set down his teacup, inclining his head as he replied, "Indeed, sir." He swept up to his feet, coming to stand next to the young man. "It was made apparent that young Master Damian needed rest after falling asleep in the front seat and banging his head on the dashboard."

"Oh," Dick said with a note sympathy, but chuckled all the same. "That would be this bruise here, yeah?" He pointed to a slightly purple patch of skin above his eyebrows.

Alfred nodded. The two men gazed down at the child tucked up against the pillows.

Dick shifted. "He'll have a killer headache in the morning."

"I checked for a concussion," came a voice from behind them. Dick twisted to look over his shoulder. Bruce had his palm against the door frame, observing the three with his sharp perception. He entered the room, standing between them. "It's just a nasty bruise. I told him to put on his seatbelt." He sighed. "But...you know how he is."

"'I am the Son of Bat,'" Dick mimicked, "'Velocity would not dare harm me,' yeah. I had to wrestle him in it a few times until he got the idea."

Bruce arched a brow. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Damian shifted, mewling as if to protest any future plots of submission.

Dick smiled down at him. This kid had the entire family wrapped around his pinkie finger, Timmy included. There was nothing they wouldn't do for him.

Alfred cleared his throat. "May I suggest relocating the young sir? While I'm sure that the sofa may be comfortable, I believe that his bed would be more suitable."

Bruce nodded in agreement, stepping forward. He placed a hand beneath the small back and another under the spindly knees, lifting the child in his arms. He tucked the boy close to his chest and gestured for Dick to follow him with a jerk of his head. Dick grinned and jogged up the stairs beside him.

"So what brings you here so late?" Bruce asked, tone still soft in observance of Damian.

Dick shrugged. "Or early, I suppose. Babs said something about radio silence and Red Hood's location. You know what that may be about?"

Bruce closed his eyes. "Yes," he replied tiredly after a few moments. "He's putting out a new strain of methamphetamine. He's devaluing the current strain so that he has an accurate reading on where the dangerous areas are and can eradicate the cartels not in his control. The high is more intense but the effects don't last as long."

"They'll be wanting it fast, then," Dick commented casually. "He wanting any help?"

Bruce made it to the stairs' landing and stopped. "I asked, but..."

"But Crime Alley is his turf, yeah," Dick supplied. "Well, Oracle knows now. We'll be keeping an eye out."

Bruce swallowed and nodded.

Dick tilted his head. "Bruce," he said in an undertone, stepping closer. "He's doing what he can."

Bruce avoided his eyes. "Not like this. It never should have been like this." Despite the gruff tone, his voice was hoarse.

Dick's throat tightened. Aw hell.

The clock chimed in the hallway.

Dick lifted a shoulder toward Damian's bedroom and sent a look in question. Bruce nodded his thanks at dropping the topic and made his way to the bedroom, heedfully stepping over the plethora of pets.

Dick snorted and did the same. "That may have been a disaster."

"Indeed."

"You ever trip over Tim's skateboard?"

"Every damn time. Grab his sweater, would you?"

Dick opened the top drawer and rifled through the contents, withdrawing an old gray sweater. "Wasn't this Cassandra's?"

"Not anymore, apparently. Here." He handed over a bundle of sleeping child.

Dick braced his arms under Damian's seat, the boy's sleep-flushed face lolling against his shoulder. He watched his father figure close the curtains and and pull down the bed covers. He swung his baby brother to and fro, smiling at the arrival of the animals.

Bruce sighed in a put-upon fashion at Titus's whine. "Right. Up, then," he ordered with an imperious point to the bed. Titus barked happily and jumped on, ignoring the bed frame's groan of protest. The feline hopped on delicately, settling near the edge of the bed. Man and cat eyed each other with playful hostility. "You didn't even ask," Bruce muttered with measured disdain. He grumbled as he set other things to rights, picking up shoes and socks, putting the boy's iPod far out of reach, double-checking the window locks.

Fussing, Dick realized. He was fussing. He dragged a hand through the child's hair, deftly untangling the knots. This, he thought as he observed the man set leftover clothes in the laundry hamper with a tinge of exasperation, this is why he left. Bruce had needed to remember. Damian needed a father and Bruce had needed to remember.

"Right," Bruce exhaled, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room. "That's done."

Dick shuffled forward and deftly handed Damian back over. Bruce grunted his thanks and set the little boy on the bed, gently pulling the sweater over his head. Damian blinked his eyes blearily, looking every bit the sleepy bird. "Father?" he questioned, voice crackling from sleep.

Bruce hummed but did not respond further, drawing the thin small arms through the sleeves. Once all was adorned, Damian settled against the bed, tucking his knees to his chin.

Bruce drew the covers over him and knelt down beside the bed. "Seatbelt next time," he ordered firmly.

"Seatbelt next time," came the childish agreement through a yawn. 

Bruce cracked a smile. "Good." He placed a hand over the child's head, bidding him goodnight.

The door clicked in the hallway, and the moon spilled through the window like a shower of white light.

Dick sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Bruce stopped beside him, thoughtful.

"You can join me for cocoa, if you'd like."

Dick let a small smile pass his lips. "Isn't it late?"

"I've been recently told that it is, in fact, early."

Dick smiled in earnest now. "All right," he said, uncrossing his arms. "You've convinced me."

"You could eat Damian's leftover cookies."

Dick laughed. "I said you've convinced me."

Bruce smirked and brushed a hand through Dick's hair, nudging him forward with his shoulder.

Dick lightly traipsed down the stairs, jumping the last four steps as he always did. "You coming, big guy?"

Yeah, he thought as he watched Bruce jog down the steps, face clear of worry, this is why he left. It was a good decision, all in all.

Bruce shot out a hand to swipe at him and Dick ducked, laughing.

A good decision, not without some pain. But he wouldn't take it back.

He thought back on Damian, sleeping safe in his room. Bruce, sitting across from him and chuckling at Dick's recent tale. Alfred, nodding off and still smiling.

No, he thought, leaning against the lumpy maroon couch, this was one decision he would never take back.

* * *

Sometimes we have to leave in order to allow people to grow. It hurts both parties, but if and when there is a reconnect, you can see each other more clearly and appreciate each other for who you are. 

So don't be afraid to say "see you later." Later can mean hello again, it's nice to finally meet you. Hello again, I'm glad to see you. Hello again, I missed you. 


End file.
